Nocturne with Flame
Not imposition, but welcome.
Another’s stirred embers, banked
and forming the kindling’s base.
Thus the licked paper curling with smoke,
stars shooting into the blackness,
and finally, exploding light
transformed to heat.
From one’s loss, another’s gain.
The flickering on my cheek.
Inhaled bitterness and memory.
The wait, the period before.
Like the owl in the live oak,
or the mice under our floor
returning, I celebrate the cycle,
and grow warm.
“Nocturne with Flame” appeared in The Galway Review in December 2016.
O at the Edges 
I like this very much.
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Thank you, Liz. Oh, the memories of so many fires…
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You’re welcome, Bob.
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Like the owl in the live oak,
or the mice under our floor
returning, I celebrate the cycle,
and grow warm….loved it
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Thanks very much!
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